


Dormitando

by Wade (monzi)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, SEP era, but imma tag it anyway, i'm not entirely sure if it counts as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monzi/pseuds/Wade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The contact grounds him as much as it drives him insane, but he focuses on it anyway. On the air caressing his skin from Jack's half panting, the weight of his arm, Jack's leg rubbing against the outer side of his thigh, the gold of his hair, the dip of his spine, the curve of his ass. Jack, Jack, Jack--</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dormitando

**Author's Note:**

> couldn't sleep. wanted to read smut, but didn't have anything *new*, so i went and wrote it by my own damm self. nvm that i've never written smut before.
> 
> admittedly, i could have done this at a better time than 7am after getting absolutely no sleep. but hey, exhaustion induced motivation, and all that.
> 
> tittle means "dozing" in spanish. also, despite me being a native spanish speaker, there is zero of that in this fic. oops?
> 
> also, i have ten trillion r76 ideas, but it figures that the first one i finish is the random PWP. fucking christ, self.
> 
> EDIT: WOOPS i forgot to mention, this is also up on my art blog http://wakeupwade.tumblr.com/post/149304728754/dormitando-dozing

Gabriel comes to terms with the fact that neither of them is getting any sleep tonight.  
  
They're both sprawled on his bunk ---Jack's had been deemed to be too far away from the door when they stumbled into the room, dizzy and barely conscious from another grueling day of injections and training and yet more injections. They had barely made it there as it is. Bodies changing from the inside out, when the _shakes_ start they have little time to think of anything but where to drop before they fall unconscious.

Except tonight the opposite is happening.  
  
Jack had managed to change into his night clothes _somehow_ , while Gabriel barely had a mind to shrug out of his shirt and boots. He felt Jack crawl in bed beside him not long after he'd fallen on the mattress himself. His body feels heavy, hot one moment and freezing cold the next; he's covered in a sheen of sweat either way. He can't imagine Jack feels any better, even if he had the energy to walk from the bed to the dresser, then back to bed after a change of clothes. Gabriel doesn't think he could get his feet under him, right now, if his life depended on it.  
  
He brings his arm up to hide his face into the crook of his elbow. His senses are assaulted by every little thing; even in the relative dark of their room he's blinded by the minimal light coming from the window. They forgot to close the blinds.  
  
He shivers despite the fire in his veins. Jack's too shallow breaths leave a damp spot where he's buried his face in Gabriel's neck. If he had the strength for it Gabriel has no doubt he'd be clutching him like a lifeline. As it is, he lays limply beside his roommate: right leg tangled with Gabriel's, one arm on his chest, the other tucked between their bodies.  
  
The contact grounds him as much as it drives him insane, but he focuses on it anyway. On the air caressing his skin from Jack's half panting, the weight of his arm, Jack's leg rubbing against the outer side of his thigh, the gold of his hair, the dip of his spine, the curve of his ass. Jack, Jack, _Jack--_  
  
_Ah._  
  
It's completely unintended, really, and Gabriel's a little horrified to find that unbearable warmth that had just been scorching his insides now pools somewhere unmistakable. Even more embarrassing, it brings a flush to his face.  
  
The realization knocks the tiniest gasp out of him, but --- _senses heightened, overloaded_ \--- Jack feels it anyway, the tremor of his shoulders. It rouses him from his half-sleep. Like Gabriel, all through the night he's been swaying between sleep and wakefulness, never fully leaning towards one or the other. Blond lashes brush his cheek as Jack opens his eyes. The touch is dreamlike, barely there. Gabriel's skin is aflame, again, again, his skin is burning. Drowsily, Jack shifts the leg he has hooked on Gabriel's hip.  
  
That's _really_ not helping.  
  
His hips roll out of their own will and Gabriel curses them and himself for it. He knows, though. Knows exactly when Jack reaches the same conclusion he just did. If his suddenly accelerated heartbeat and the tension that has settled on his muscles isn't enough of a hint that _something's_ happened, then, well, the obvious tent of his pants sure is.  
  
It's somewhere between mortifying and exciting that Jack doesn't react right away. And then he does, and the hand above Gabriel's head clutches at the pillow when Jack starts tracing slow, lazy circles on his right pectoral. It's a whisper of a touch, really, but the aftereffects of the injections leave him oversensitive. It might as well be a punch to the gut. A whole lot more pleasurable, however, and Gabriel can't help it when his spine curve and his hips move _again_. Jack's leg tightens its hold on him and, nope, that's still not helping deescalate the situation.  
  
_Might as well go with it_ , because Gabriel feels utterly fucked even though they've done nothing but lay bed all night. What're they putting in those super soldier drugs these days?  
  
"Gabe?" Jack's voice is quiet. In the stillness of the room, it echoes like a long scream. It sounds muffled to Gabriel, but that may be just the blood rushing through his ears.  
  
"Yeah?" Gabriel replies. He sounds out of breath, and feels it too.  
  
"Let me see?"  
  
His first thought is _what_. Because-- because Jack's tone is even, and sleepy, and. Conversational. Like Gabriel's dick isn't hard in his pants, like Jack's hand isn't thumbing one of his nipples excruciatingly slow. Utterly fucked.  
  
The thing is, Gabriel's worked hard to earn his reputation as a hardass in just about every aspect of his life. In the SEP and in his military career before it, and his civilian life before enlisting. So if it were literally anyone else here beside him, asking that question ( _making that demand_ ), things wouldn't end nicely. Jack, on the other hand, has worked to hard to prove that he doesn't particularly give a fuck about his efforts. And it's paid off, which is probably why instead of shoving him off the bed and leaving empty space where his front teeth should be, Gabriel says---  
  
"Yeah." He can't see Jack's face with it burrowed in his neck. He doesn't know what he'd see if he could. "Yeah," he tries to say again, but it comes out as a groan.  
  
Go slow. He doesn't do it right away. One of his arms is pinned under Jack, his own personal human pillow. The other is still raised over his head, and he brings that one down to his chest. Brushes Jack's fingertips for the shortest of seconds, continues its trail down his sternum, to his navel, lower still to the waistband of his pants. Teases there for a moment.  
  
The minute motion of Jack's own hips clues him in that he's not the only one _affected_ here; the fact emboldens him. He strokes himself lightly through the fabric, and Jack's quiet whimper causes a growl to rise past his clenched teeth.  
  
His touches turn more insistent. Jack nuzzles further into his neck ---Gabriel thinks he might have felt a kiss and a nip, but he's not sure. Jack's hand stops teasing at his chest and drops to his waistband, slips a finger underneath, and Gabriel gets the not-so-subtle hint. He pulls on one side, Jack on the other, and together they slide his pants and underwear down to his thighs.  
  
It's almost too much then, with the cold air brushing the overheated skin of cock. But the difference in temperature doesn't hit him as hard as Jack's sharp gasp. Gabriel closes his eyes, holds his breath, counts to ten. Fingers not his own tremble a little as they clutch at the hard muscle of his thigh. Nails dig in like they mean to draw blood when he takes himself in hand.  
  
Jack's drawn out whimper is loud and needy and _it's music to his ears_. He's aware, peripherally, of his own groans and growls, rasping voice dragged out of his throat by the motions of his hand. Jack's grinding against his thigh, wanton and greedy. He didn't think he'd be into being watched. Didn't think he'd _want_ Jack to watch. You learn something everyday.  
  
This time he doesn't stop the movement of his hips, it barely registers as a thought before he's fucking right into the tight circle of his own fist ---it's exactly the same and nothing alike as going solo. Jack's presence beside him is a constant in every other facet of his life, why should it be any different in _this?_ He turns to face Jack for the first time in hours, and his pace stutters because---  
  
This is why photographs exist: a flush spreads prettily over Jack's cheeks, to the tips of his ears, no doubt down to his chest. It makes the otherwise invisible freckles stand out on the bridge of his nose. His eyes are shut tight but his lips are parted, and Gabriel's enthralled by the shock of pink of his tongue. Gabriel leans over before he can think too long on it, plants a kiss on his forehead, tastes the salt of his sweat.  
  
Then he opens his eyes and Gabriel nearly falls into that endless sea of blue he can't believe he'd never noticed before. One hand comes to rest on the back of Jack's head to grab a handful of his hair. He brings their faces close together. Their lips are worlds away and inches close at the same time, breaths intermingling. Grips the base of his cock in a vice because _it's too much, too much, too soon._  
  
"On your back," he says it in the same voice he uses to bark out commands during training exercises, the same way he says _watch my six_ with bullets raining down on them in real missions, and Jack makes sure not a single one of them hits him. "Want to see you."  
  
He seems to pick up the authoritative tone as well, because he pins Gabriel with a stare (sharp, piercing, warm) for a moment, before he's rolling over. He wastes no time in discarding his pants and pushing his shirt up. Jack's shuddering gasp when he starts pumping himself has Gabriel's hand moving again, pace renewed.  
  
Electricity is flowing under his skin, and he swears he can hear thunder breaking the quiet, but that might just be his heart hammering away between his ribs.  
  
Jack's unoccupied hand is teasing at his chest and Gabriel makes a note of the fixation absentmindedly. He hooks a finger under Jack's chin ( _peach fuzz_ ) to turn those eyes back towards him, and this time he willingly loses himself in them. His chest heaves with his labored breathing; his pace quickens, chasing bliss. He bites his bottom lip hard when he sees Jack do the same. Bites down on his too, for good measure, and the gesture turns into a rushed, sloppy kiss. It tastes like blood, like sweat, like _Jack_ and he has no idea how to describe that last flavor. He decides it's his favorite from now on.  
  
He's making all these _sounds_. A whimper, a moan, a hushed rush of air against Gabriel's mouth. They fill the room like an entity. He wants to hear them every hour, every day; to find out what other sounds he can get Jack to make and how.  
  
Jack's all but sobbing when he comes and Gabriel only notices his own orgasm as a white-hot rush of fire. He's lost --- _utterly fucked_ \--- in the bow of Jack's lips, the beads of sweat rolling off his forehead, clinging to his lashes, his name in a sigh. Gabe, Gabe, Gabe.  
  
He inhales a sharp gulp of air, and another, until the earthquake rattling his bones dies down into pleasant shivers. His skin feels chilled, but not uncomfortable. For the first time all night he doesn't feel like he's suffocating.  
  
Jack slumps back onto his side to rest his head on a sweat-slicked shoulder. He shrugs out of his shirt with the other man's help, no doubt he'd have slept in it otherwise, soaked and rumpled under his armpits. He's a mess, but---  
  
Soft smile, blunt nails running gently over his collarbone. Boneless in the afterglow, Gabriel thinks, _he should look like this all the time._

 


End file.
